


Live to Please

by jellyjog



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Don't copy to another site, First Time, Fully consensual but still just not healthy, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Not healthy sex, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Self-Esteem Issues, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi, Subobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 21:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyjog/pseuds/jellyjog
Summary: Qui-Gon wants Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan wants to make his Master happy.





	Live to Please

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SubObi week 2019, Day 1: First Time
> 
> Is this a depiction of a healthy sexual relationship? No. Does this have a plot? Hell no. Enjoy your PWP, I sure enjoyed writing it.

They were sparring in a private training room when he noticed it. The look in his Master’s eyes. That slight glint that meant he saw something he liked, which was usually reserved for the more alluring of contacts they met on missions. The one that meant Qui-Gon would be disappearing at some point in order to indulge in an illicit encounter that he would later lie to Obi-Wan about. Badly.

It was jarring, and for a moment he thought it was a tactic meant to throw him off. Some sort of training game. His distraction would cost him the fight and he would be subjected to a lecture on being ready for anything. On not allowing an opponent to divert his attention. He was considering how to react when the choice was taken from him. His Master was the best swordsman in The Order, and with a series of brutal blows that Obi-Wan couldn’t have handled even on his best day, he found himself on the mat.

That was when he knew it wasn’t a tactic. Master Jinn never threw anything at him that he couldn’t handle—at least not unless that was the lesson—and he could see the words the man was whispering under his breath.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

And then Qui-Gon was moving to stand and Obi-Wan had only a split second to respond. The truth was that he didn’t know if he desired his Master that way. He had never considered it. He had always been too wrapped up in trying to learn everything the man taught him. Trying to soak up every piece of information he offered and make the most of this apprenticeship that had been gifted to him by the force. He didn’t know if he wanted Qui-Gon, but he knew now that Qui-Gon wanted him. And he knew that he would do anything to please his Master. It had been true when he was thirteen and offering his life for the man, and it was true now that he was eighteen and lying defeated on the floor.

So he leaned up, hands moving to the back of Qui-Gon’s neck, and he pulled the man down over him into a kiss. For a moment he thought he might have misread things. Qui-Gon had stilled above him, and the worry that he might have just created a situation that would be both embarrassing and impossible to explain entered his head. Then Qui-Gon kissed him back, pressing him into the ground and sliding his tongue across his bottom lip. The surprise of it was enough to make Obi-Wan gasp, and he felt a tongue dip into his mouth as he did so.

It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was the first time it had been like _this._ He could feel the desire of it all. The heaviness. His body was completely covered and there was a hand tangled in his hair. It was nothing like the relatively chaste, exploratory experiences he’d had with Siri. It was something different entirely and small sounds were escaping his mouth as his body responded to it.

He kept his arms around Qui-Gon’s neck as he focused on the kiss. There was a disparity of experience, and he was simply matching intensity with his Master, letting the other man run the show. He lost his focus for a moment when Qui-Gon shifted against him and he realized that the man was _erect_. He could feel it on his leg, and he pressed against it just a bit, marveling at the way his Master groaned into his mouth.

_This is what he’s like_ , he thought. _When he’s off on those liaisons. Now he’s like this with me._

Qui-Gon worked his hands down to the sash of Obi-Wan’s tunics, undoing the pristine knot that held it together. Obi-Wan moaned, tunics falling open. He was wearing a thin undershirt beneath, and he could feel Qui-Gon’s hands untucking it and sliding up underneath.

“Is this what you want, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon sounded unsure, but his hands continued sliding up his chest.

_Was_ this what he wanted? Did he want Qui-Gon’s hands on him? His mouth on him? When he said _this_ , what did he mean?

Did he mean _sex?_

“Yes.” Obi-Wan moved his hands, tentatively exploring his Master’s shoulders. His back. Refamiliarizing himself with the body pressed against him as he tried to imagine desiring it. Lusting for it. Opening himself to it. “I want you, Master,” he whispered, pressing himself into the hands that were splayed against his skin. 

Then his Master was sitting up. Straddling Obi-Wan’s thighs. Taking his cloak off and unfastening his tunics.

There was a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, and a slight flush that Obi-Wan knew was from arousal. That knowledge made Obi-Wan flush as well. His Master wanted him. His Master wanted him enough to throw the code out the window just to be with him like this.

“ _Force_ , Obi-Wan.” His Master looked down at him, moving quickly to push his shirt up and bare his skin. It was kept cool in the salles, and Obi-Wan could feel goosebumps cover his flesh as it was exposed. “How long have you been this way?” 

Obi-Wan simply raised his arms above his head, allowing Qui-Gon to remove his undershirt the rest of the way. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. How long had he been _what_ way? He was fairly certain that—oh, force. Dear force. Qui-Gon was reaching down his pants. Qui-Gon was _touching_ him.

He’d touched himself, but he’d never had someone _else_ assisting. It felt different. His Master’s hands were larger and more calloused. They felt rough around him and he couldn’t help letting out a strangled groan as one of them moved along his length, the other toying with his waistband, shifting it down. He lifted his hips, allowing Qui-Gon to push the fabric over them all the way down to the tops of his boots. And that was it. He was fully exposed beneath his Master, breathing heavily as he was stroked to full hardness.

He moved his head up, nuzzling into Qui-Gon’s neck—partially to hide his face and partially because it just felt like the thing to do. He opened his mouth, pressing it along the other man’s skin and dragging it down to the collarbone, nipping gently when he heard Qui-Gon moan. He responded in kind, moaning into his Master’s skin and bucking his hips up into the hand that gripped him.

“Force you’re gorgeous like this,” Qui-Gon whispered, and Obi-Wan preened. Yes, his Master wanted him. He could do this for him. He could be like this for his Master. Mouth still against skin, he reached down to palm Qui-Gon’s erection through his pants. It was large and did nothing to make the possibility of sex seem less daunting, but the response he got was encouraging. He pressed suggestively at the waistband, shifting it down until the erection was freed and moving down to tentatively grip it. His hand was gripped and moved away, held at his side as Qui-Gon moved forward to slot their erections together instead. That pulled a real moan out of Obi-Wan. It was nothing like when he did this himself and he wasn’t prepared for it in the slightest.

He was even less prepared for the way that Qui-Gon started to rut, large hand wrapped around them both as he thrust. The friction was delightful, and it was almost surreal to realize that it came from the cock of the man above him. He tangled his arms into his Master’s hair, pulling him back for another kiss. The kiss lasted only a moment before it was broken.

“What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

What did he want? He certainly didn’t have very long to decide, and he knew his answer would be important. If he answered incorrectly, his Master would stop. He would think Obi-Wan didn’t want to be here, or that he wanted it for the wrong reasons. He wanted to want the same thing his Master wanted, but he didn’t know what that was. 

Except he did know. He wasn’t blind, and it was obvious. The way he was pinned to the floor. The way he was being thrust against. The way he was covered and guided and controlled.

His Master wanted to fuck him.

“Want you inside me,” he breathed, pulling Qui-Gon back to his mouth. He could feel the body above him respond to his words. It tightened above him, covering him fully as a pleased growl was let out into their kiss. And then the mouth was gone again, and Obi-Wan was out of his depth. Qui-Gon was kissing him still. Moving his mouth along his jaw, beard scratching down his neck to a place that would be just below his tunics and—

_Oh_

He cried out at the bite, surprised, and a hand moved to his mouth.

“Careful, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon soothed the bite with his tongue. “Remember where we are.”

Oh _force_. They were in a training room. A _training room_. He was about to lose his virginity in a training room, trapped underneath his Master. He whimpered, trying to stifle a groan as he tried to decide whether he found the concept to be incredibly erotic or simply terrifying. Perhaps it was both.

Qui-Gon called something to him with the force, and he leaned his head up to look at it.

Oil. They had used it to lubricate a blaster for one of the earlier training exercises. Oh dear force, his Master was going to fuck him.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon was already opening the bottle. Warming the oil in his hand and spreading it on his fingers. Obi-Wan tried his best to seem confident.

“Yes,” he keened, pressing his body up. “Use me.” Qui-Gon quirked his eyebrow at that, a hint of worry showing on his face before he shook it away, and then Obi-Wan felt his legs being nudged apart. He felt a body settling between them, and he took deep breaths. He had to relax. He knew that much.

“Dear force, Padawan. You have no clue how you look, spread out under me like this.” The voice was low and predatory, but the kiss that touched his middle was light and reassuring. He could feel a finger at his entrance and he willed himself not to tense up. He wondered what it would _feel_ like.

Odd, apparently. It didn’t _hurt_ , but it was, well, strange.

_He’s inside of me_ , he thought, and the idea made him shiver. He was being prepared. Stretched. His body being readied to take his Master’s cock.

“ _More,”_ he begged, although he didn’t know why. He knew the preparation should be slow. He’d never had anything inside of him before and rushing it would hurt. “ _More_ ,” he pleaded anyway. He wanted to be used. He wanted pleasure taken from him. He wanted to please. To be chosen. To be _worthy_. He watched Qui-Gon cover his mouth with his own hand, stifling a groan, and then there were two fingers inside of him, moving.

That hurt a bit, but he could tell the lubricant was helping. He reached down, grabbing Qui-Gon’s hand and maneuvering a third finger in. He threw his head back, gasping as the pain hit. He hadn’t been ready for three yet. How in the galaxy was he supposed to take an entire _cock_?

Qui-Gon picked up the pace, breathing heavily. It burned a bit. Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t ready. He didn’t care.

“Please, Master.” He threw his arms around the man and thrust his hips down, forcing a moan from both of their mouths. Qui-Gon blinked.

“You’re too tight, Padawan.” He kissed the corner of his mouth. “It will hurt you.”

“But you want to,” Obi-Wan whispered. He ran his hand along the side of Qui-Gon’s face gently. “Please Master. Take me.”

The fingers were removed, which actually hurt a bit. He was tight enough that they had created a sort of suction which popped as it was broken, and he whimpered. Then he could feel Qui-Gon against him, and he sucked in a breath as the pressure built, burying his face into his Master’s chest and wrapping his arms around him.

It wasn’t even in yet and it hurt, and, oh. He looked down and it _was_ in, partially. The pressure was just still there. It hadn’t popped in like the fingers had. Instead he was slowly giving way to it, being pressed into deliberately. At least it wouldn’t be a sudden burst. It would be this hot, constant pressure. His hands raked against his Master’s back, scrabbling for purchase.

Oh, _there_ was the sudden pain. Qui-Gon was _large_ and the further he went in the more difficult it was. He could feel it in his _spine._ His breath hitched and he was gripped tighter. Movement ceased.

“Are you okay, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon’s voice was strained, no doubt from the effort of stopping. Of moving so slowly inside of him. Obi-Wan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The other man didn’t seem convinced. He look _concerned_. Obi-Wan pressed himself down further onto the erection that filled him, willing his body to loosen. To open to the intrusion. Force, it hurt. There were tears filling his eyes. He wanted to cry out, but he was a Jedi, damn it. He had control of himself. Of his body. He could do this. He could please his Master.

“Please,” he whimpered, and he had to shove his hand into his mouth to stifle the sound when Qui-Gon thrust the rest of the way in. 

It hurt more moving out. There was plenty of lube and the pull wasn’t so much along his walls as it simply felt like his body wanted to keep itself full. The air inside of him had been replaced with cock, and his muscles were wrapped so tightly around it that new air couldn’t rush in when it was being pulled out. His body wanted to pull his Master back the way a syringe wants to close when you cover the hole with your finger and pull the plunger back. From the look on Qui-Gon’s face, it felt delightful.

Obi-Wan released the body above him, laying down fully and splaying his arms out. He was sweaty. He was tired. He was in pain, and he needed to breath. He could feel hands move to his hips in response as Qui-Gon sat back fully on his knees, and then he was being pulled up onto the man’s lap as he was thrust into again. His legs wrapped around the other man’s back, and a startled yelp escaped his mouth. The thrust had not been slow. It had not been gentle. His skin was warm where he had been pulled across the floor. Obi-Wan threw his head back and arched his body, trying his best to look inviting. The groan that washed across the room was heavy and unrestrained.

And then he was being fucked.

It was interesting, at the least, to see his Master undone in this way. To see him sweating. Feel him touching and hurting and _claiming_. To hear the noises he made as he took his Padawan on the training room floor. He had never imagined the man being so unrestrained in this way. Had never considered the notion that he, like many others, was capable of giving in so fully to his physical desires. It gave Obi-Wan a slight feeling of power, despite the way he had given up all control. He could bring a fully trained Jedi Master down to his base instincts. 

And there were other Jedi just outside that door, weren’t there. Could they hear them? Did they have any idea what was happening in here? When he walked from the room afterwards, would they be able to tell, or would they assume that the sweat, the flush, the _exhaustion_ was all from an intense spar?

Would they know he’d just been possessed? Fucked into the floor by his own mentor?

He’d be in trouble if they did. This was forbidden. A Padawan was seen as being unable to consent to their Master, and Qui-Gon could face serious consequences if anyone discovered what was happening right now.

“Look at me, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon was panting, thrusting hard, and Obi-Wan was wrenched back into reality by the words. A hand was moving along his chest, and another moving to his own erection. He practically jumped out of his skin at the contact. He hadn’t realized how close he was to completion himself, but it was painfully obvious now that he was being stroked. He looked up, transfixed by the entire situation.

And then Qui-Gon came. The hand around him tightened almost painfully, and Obi-Wan reached down to grip himself, trying desperately to catch up. He could feel tears in his eyes and sweat on his face as he moved his hand frantically, and soon his hips were bucking upwards as he reached his own completion. His orgasm was quick but strong—a shock to his system—and he lay back liquidly. 

He couldn’t help but whimper again when Qui-Gon pulled out of him, but it was hard to truly care about the pain. His heart was beating vehemently in his ear, and his limbs felt as if they were going to disappear into the floor. Qui-Gon collapsed onto the ground next to him, splaying an arm over Obi-Wans stomach and bringing the other to caress his cheek.

“That was, force, Obi-Wan.” His head was turned to the side and his mouth was captured in a lazy kiss. His Master was running his hands along him soothingly and he let out a pleased purr. 

“Master.” Obi-Wan broke the kiss, looking pleadingly into the other man’s eyes. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what, Obi-Wan?” A hand stroked his hair, coming down to run lovingly along the length of his braid.

“Promise me you’ll still want me tomorrow.” Obi-Wan brought his hand out, hesitantly wrapping the other man into a hug. It was returned, and he was pulled tight into the strong chest that held him.

“Oh Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon sighed. “I’ll always want you.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a tough one for me to write. I'd love constructive criticism if you have any!


End file.
